


Chain of Command

by sora-esque (parkadescandal)



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Implied Soriku, Post-Re:Mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22866358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkadescandal/pseuds/sora-esque
Summary: There was only one other person who may have gotten to see that expression on this face directly in person, and their roles had been exchanged—she was the one who got to remain behind this time. And she knows she’s not a replacement; she already went toe to toe with the survivor’s guilt that told her otherwise. She won’t let it keep her from sending one last lifeline.
Relationships: Naminé/Riku Replica (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Chain of Command

**Author's Note:**

> wanted to streamline some of my more bitesized content & prompt answers from my "standard" fic fare so compromised on a dedicated pseud. 
> 
> response to a "send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss" - _36\. a kiss to give up control_

“Something to remember me by?” he asks of her drily, gently pressing onto the sketchbook with two fingers to tilt it up and put her sketch in full view. 

“I’m not one to forget. I’m sure you can imagine.” 

Naminé gently reclaims the sketchbook from under his fingers and pulls it to her chest, crossing her arms over it as an additional barrier. The only slip in her defenses is when she reaches away to push her hair behind her ear as she looks up at him. 

“Yeah. Guess you’re right. You’ll always have a reminder.” 

He turns his gaze in another direction, overtaken by a pensive moment. She uses it to her advantage—the sketchbook relinquished, she looks between them to compare the two: the image she created, and the one she borrowed. She opts to wait on the drawing, already near completion, and commits his face to memory instead. He isn’t wrong. Her memory stretches long and clear, perhaps a byproduct of her ability. Their time, unfortunately, does not. 

“It won’t be quite the same,” she says, drawing him back from wherever he went— _not yet_. She knows she once would have seen his face cloud with bitterness, but there isn’t even a slight touch of anger there. Not sorrow, either, but something cousin to it, and resignation, or acceptance. She finds herself not so content to just allow things to happen these days. She thinks maybe she would be just strong enough to hold on to his essence if it came to that, the same way her echo had been tethered to the ether before the long slide home. 

“That’s romantic,” he says simply, falling flat. “Not like there’s a difference.” 

She reaches up a hand to touch his face, gently forcing his sights on hers. 

Why it had to be just one of them she wished she knew. Her, or him, when neither should have ever made it this far, their status as shadows of another notwithstanding. A tendency to self-sacrifice…she copied it directly from the source, not knowing how much she’d come to regret it. No one had asked her if she _wanted_ it. 

“There’s a lot of difference. I can always tell.” 

Of course there was. There was only one other person who may have gotten to see _that_ expression on _this_ face directly in person, and their roles had been exchanged—she was the one who got to remain behind this time. And she knows she’s not a replacement; she already went toe to toe with the survivor’s guilt that told her otherwise. She won’t let it keep her from sending one last lifeline. 

“It wouldn’t take long. They could have something ready for you in no time—” 

“Both you and I know it’s not time yet. It might never be. He’s got a lot of work to do.” 

She looks down, dropping her hand from his face and running it through her hair again for lack of response. He reaches out to take both of her hands in his own, arching in to reassure her. 

“So do you.” 

“I know,” she says, then sighs. “But I wish it weren’t like this.” 

This time he’s the one to reach out, and he cups a hand at her face, encircling her within his arm. 

“Naminé,” he says, but she’s not ready to hear it. 

“Thank you,” she interrupts. The way tears well up in this body is still a novelty. “Thank you for choosing me. To save me. And…to love me.” 

“Had to put it somewhere,” he says, barely audible. “But I do. And I still will. But—”

“It’s okay,” she says. “I’ll see you soon.” 

She reaches up to kiss him just as long as he will hold her, and only when his hand falls away from her waist does she move to sit back down. She waits a breath before she looks up again. 

Riku blinks to reorient himself, taking a steadying breath before he takes in that she’s still present in front of him. 

“Did it work?” he asks. 

She only stands, carefully placing the sketchbook she’d taken from her lap on the table beside them before walking away. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> if you put any stock in the [necklace theory](https://blowingoffsteam2.tumblr.com/post/173361049804/com-soras-necklace-pt-1) (which i do) then replinami is just an obvious soriku analogue man 
> 
> [originally posted on twitter 2/16/20](https://twitter.com/parkadescandal/status/1229212998507618306?s=20)


End file.
